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Monthly Archives: July 2014

My sister, Candace, had to make the humane decision to euthanize her canine soul mate, Ella, a while back. (And, more recently, Moses from FeLV complications.)

Of course, I’d been privy to Ella’s mental decline and health issues, and had prayed as if her furry children were mine.

On that day, Candace had stopped in to drop off some plants, and to water some of my thirsty others. But, before picking up last-hope medications from her vet, she went home to check on Ella. As she left, I wondered what condition she would find Ella.

Within a couple of hours, I received the call, and her Facebook posting, that Ella had gone to her Creator.

As I was crying for her, her lose, her heart ache, my thoughts went back to my own loss: over a year ago, I had to make that decision for my almost 22-year-old feline soul mate, Cĭātĭ. I had cried and talked to Cĭātĭ about its inevitability for over 6 months.

Aside from Candace and Madeleine, I didn’t tell anyone. I grieved alone and cried in private. But, as I read her FB friend’s condolences, I became more aware of a room needing expansion—my heart—again. It seems that the more walls I break down, the more light is cast on where else I have “room to grow.”

If you’ve read my books, are a follower of my daily Facebook “Cyndex”es, or my weekly blog “Conversationswithcynthia,” you’re aware that I share the gleanings from my life choices. Some are wise. Some, witty; others woeful. Hopefully, they’ll prevent you from taking the same wrong turns. Here’s another:

Wearing an open heart is a two-edged sword. Yes, you will feel the thorns, but you won’t bleed alone. Don’t suffer in silence! Express your emotional vulnerability.

Not expressing emotions isn’t strong, admirable, or healthy. It comes from a misinformed belief—habit of mind—that emotions are senseless, that you’re unimportant, an inconvenience, or an accident…maybe, from shame.

I’m still learning to trust others, to share my heart hurts. I’m also learning that being vulnerable is a reciprocal blessing: it allows others to share the stab of pathos, and blesses you to know they care. It’s heart-enlarging.

Recently, a writer/friend, Jim Croft, was encouraging us to: “Obey God by following your passion for ministry.” I ditto that! God’s heart (our passion/calling) will flow from our blessed niche.

One of my “flows” is when writing. As thoughts and concepts pour, it seems like there’s a different person in my head. Well, it sort of is…and isn’t, but I’m mindfully, prayerfully, transitioning into the whole, which is the point of this musing: to be all that I am, all of the time. To get there, I need to go to miracles. (You understand my trails, so mentally bookmark “to be all that I am, all of the time.”)

“Consciousness: the condition of being conscious…the normal state of being awake and able to understand what is happening around you” ~Merriam-Webster.com

We miss miracles, every day, because we’re preoccupied with the next thing, distracted from the present, “(un)able to understand what is happening around…;”unperceiving. But, when we’re actively “awake,” looking for them, here’s what can happen:

My regular hairstylist (across the street) was out of town, so I called another for a home visit. She was on vacation, but said she would be available to me on a certain day.

After our meet-and-greet, I instructed her to layer my hair in the back—to give volume to my flat back-of-the-head (my mother was really busy and didn’t remember, or didn’t know, to re-position my head during sleep in infancy). She informed me of her healing ministry, and with my permission, started laying her hands A-L-L over my head, feeling, praying, waiting.

For an hour, we ooh and aahed at God moving my skull. I could feel heat and tingling as it expanded, rounded, even smoothed out the bumpy 100-stitch boomerang scar—from the hairline of my right temple, up the temporal bone, around to the parietal and down 2-3 inches. (Since my wreck/SCI injury, I’ve had to part my hair on the left, so that my hair fullness would fall over/conceal the slight concave of my right parietal area.)

Prior to my calling her, she knew of my disability. Although she was on vacation, and doesn’t normally do house calls, she was awake to her ministry, and perceptive to God’s desire to pour out His love on me. She made herself available.

Back to me, “to be all that I am, all of the time.” Several times she cupped her hands around the upper sides of my head—the parietal lobes where words are transferred into thoughts (the mass of my scar). When she prayed for the correction of my faulty skull DNA, I asked for cellular repair!

In my July 2nd “Cyndex,” I confessed to disrupted synapses. Not only is my head now wonderfully round, but I’m also expecting fluidity in my expressions!!!

Being knowledgeable, educated, and informed is admirable. Having to always be right is wrong. Not only is it a character flaw, it’s irritating as hell to others! I know. I mean, I know I’m right. I mean…wait. Let me explain.

I was so consumed with being right that I didn’t see how I was affecting others. I just thought they were copping an attitude because they were wrong. To compound my condition, “not being wrong” trumped “being right.” Anyway, we all know: nobody likes a smarty-pants, a know-it-all.

Pathetically, I didn’t consider myself to be a know-it-all; I just thought I was always right. It’s called “a blind spot.” For me, it was one of many. The incident that triggered my most notorious delusion was a road trip.

I was reared in Tennessee, attended college in Mississippi, lived and worked in Mississippi, Illinois, and Colorado until I moved back south to Alabama. On the first trip traveling north to visit my parents in West Tennessee, a mysterious incidence occurred to us, my sister and me, pairofabnormals.

The journey involves driving west across the Alabama border into Columbus, Mississippi. At Columbus, we turn due north, where “magnetic (compass) north” and “geographical (true) north” are exactly the same, toward which we continue through Tupelo (yes, the birthplace of Elvis), then Corinth, and up into Jackson, Tennessee before arriving in Martin, our hometown. It was upon entering the small town of Tupelo that my compass went haywire.

Although we followed the road signs, we found ourselves on the road back to Alabama. We circled back in our autocraft to the city’s entrance and tried it again, paying closer attention.

Flabbergasted, we found ourselves back on the vexingly familiar road to Alabama. From our prior practice runs, we recognized the Tupelo exit and frantically veered for it before it was too late.

This time, my navigational skills kicked in. I knew we were headed north. For us to have persisted in circling Tupelo, we must have been turning back west to end up returning south, so I offered this sage advice to calculate east: “Follow the sun because it sets in the east.”

Well, there are two things you can’t take back: childbirth and your words. Now, it is written!

We finally found our way out. But, on our second and third trips back to Tennessee, we experienced what we have respectfully labeled “The Tupelo Triangle” again, and again. Now, the interstate bi-passes Tupelo, but I suffer déjà vu just at the thought.

I’ve been humble, and I’ve been humbled. Hmmm. Do I want to be right or have satisfying relationships? It’s a heart choice. In truth, I was hiding my insecurity behind the mask of confidence. The masquerade translated into arrogance.

You know: When being confronted by arrogance, it’s like a burr under a saddle? Woe, Nellie!

I’ve learned that it’s not important to have the last word, to know all the answers, or to appear to be more than I am. What matters is other’s feelings and doing my best not to cause offense.

My feelings don’t suffer anymore when I’m wrong; though when I am, it’s always good for a laugh. In fact, stroking my ego is a thing of the past. Toot, toot! Ooops…

If you know anyone suffering from PTSD, Gary Young, founder of Young Living Essential Oils, has formulated the “Freedom Sleep and Freedom Release Collection” to soothe the mind and help release emotional trauma. Let’s help to bring them back to freedom.